


So, Did I Hit You Too Hard?

by Sanctuaria



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Compliant, Clint and Natasha talk it out, Clint explains stuff to his kids, F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Team Iron Man gets their say, after all this time? always, still mad about how Natasha and Clint were treated, still mad about how Team Iron Man was treated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanctuaria/pseuds/Sanctuaria
Summary: “We’re not fighting, buddy,” Clint promised his son.But they had been, less than a week ago—leaving many things unsaid.Post Civil War. Natasha and Clint come to terms with the sides each were on as well as the complicated reasons behind their choices that reflect the equally complex world they inhabit.





	So, Did I Hit You Too Hard?

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a one-shot that's been posted on FF.net since the movie came out. I don't know why it was never transferred over to Ao3, but I rediscovered it and found that my anger over the treatment of Team Iron Man still very much stands, so here you all go. 
> 
> This may be an unpopular opinion, but I think we give the Russos too much credit for their one pro-Clint/Natasha act in CA:TWS and forget the fact that NATASHA AND CLINT, aka the TWO WITH THE STRONGEST ACTUAL FRIENDSHIP IN THE MCU WHO HAVE KNOWN EACH OTHER FOR YEARS MORE THAN STARK/CAP AND THE REST OF THE AVENGERS, would have a lot more to lose and a lot more emotional heft behind the Civil War after ending up on opposite sides. 
> 
> Okay, done now. Just go on to the story.

Shifting his duffel bag so that it rested more comfortably on his left shoulder—not that a duffel bag full of heavy spy equipment was  _ ever  _ comfy—the ex-fugitive, ex-S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, ex-Avenger, and now reinstated-fugitive Clint Barton trudged up the path to his front porch. His muscles were sore, and he shamelessly cursed those beetle-armored guards and their seven-foot-cells for it. He had barely paused since Cap had released him, just long enough to make sure he wasn't being tailed and to shed the blue jumpsuit so as to not alarm his kids when he came in. All his gear—the stuff they didn't impound, anyway—was shoved and jumbled together in his bag. His chin was full of scruff. He needed a shower. Desperately.

Clint mounted the steps, feeling the bottom one to be especially sturdy beneath his foot—good, the new board he'd installed for Laura and the kids was holding. Clint had barely reached out for the handle when the door opened for him, revealing not his wife but a familiar redhead behind it.

"Natasha?" he asked, voice nearly cracking from disuse.

"So, did I hit you too hard?" She gave him a little smirk, lifted an eyebrow in that way of hers.

"Could've hit me a little less," Clint grumbled, rubbing his head where her boot had connected with it back at the airport.

"You too." She pushed the door open fully, letting him in— _ to his own house, Natasha _ —and he stepped inside.

"Daddy!" Lila and Cooper came barreling toward him, hugging him around the legs—Lila—and waist—Cooper.

"You're home!" his eldest son grinned. "So did Captain America really need your help?"

"Yep," Clint told him, ruffling the boy's hair. He held the both of them close, their wet hair dampening his sleeves and shirt and the strawberry scent of Lila’s shampoo pervading his nose. 

"Even though you're retired," Cooper continued. "That's so cool."

"Cooler that he's home now, right?" Laura asked pointedly, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

At the sight of her the last of the tension drained out of his body and Clint dropped his bag to the floor.

"Of course, Mom," Cooper replied with a roll of his eyes.

"I saw that, mister," Natasha scolded him, although her expression told an entirely different story. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"But Dad just got home!" Lila protested.

"Auntie Nat's right, you two," Laura told them, coming forward to give Clint a kiss.

"But—"

"No buts," Laura said, voice turning stern. "If I let you stay up until all hours every time your father came home late, you'd never go to bed."

"I'm okay with that," Lila chirped.

"Me too!"

Clint held onto them both tightly, knowing it hadn't been nearly as long—and, he was man enough to admit it, nearly as terrifying—for them. They had no idea how much thinking could be done in one of those cells, how much his mind had strayed to thoughts of them never being able to see each other again. He gave himself another few moments, then pulled away. "Bed," Clint told them, reaffirming Laura’s words. 

They slowly climbed up the stairs with long sighs, reluctance dragging on their every step. Laura watched them, hands on her hips, before dropping her fearless stance and stepping closer to Clint. His arms folded around her automatically, holding her close. “How bad?” she whispered softly in his ear. He knew she must have gotten the story from Nat already but she wanted to hear it from him. 

“Pretty bad,” he admitted, not breaking the hug. “The world’s not ending, though, just...changing.”

Laura nodded from where her head was nestled against him. “For the worse, then?”

“Depends on who you ask.” 

He saw her eyes flick to Natasha before she stepped away. “You two have a lot to talk about. For my part...whatever’s gone down between you, I'm just glad you're both safe.” 

Natasha nodded at the edge of Clint’s vision. “You know I would never hurt him,” she promised. “Much.”

Laura kissed him again. The gentle press of their lips together felt like home. “When you're done, come up to bed. You can tell me everything then.” 

“Okay,” Clint agreed quietly. His expression told his thanks as well as words could, of how grateful he felt that Laura was Laura. He knew being the wife of an Avenger couldn't be easy, but she handled the role with more grace than he could ever attain for himself. 

“Goodnight, Nat,” she said before heading up the stairs and leaving the two of them alone.

“Night.”

He looked at her. She looked at him. He sank heavily into a wooden chair at the kitchen table.

"So we're good?" Natasha slipped deftly into a chair of her own.

He met her eyes. "Yeah, Nat, we're good."

"Good." She read his face with a quick glance. "You look like you could use a drink."

He nodded, wearily agreeing, and went to stand again but she stopped him with a slight smile. "I know where you keep the good stuff."

He nodded again, resting his forehead against the junction of his thumb and forefinger, elbow braced against the table. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long. A few days."

"You're in hiding?"

She gave him that smirk again as she held out his glass—two fingers of amber liquid.  _ The good stuff. _ "Not as much as you."

He grunted, taking a sip. "What'd you do? Last I saw you were fighting on Stark's side." Clint shot her a look. "And not pulling too many of your punches."

"I gave the king of Wakanda the Widow's bite."

"T'Challa?"

"Five times."

He snorted, then sobered quickly. "He was on your side," Clint reminded her.

The corners of her mouth lifted, this time sarcastically. " _ My side. _ "

"You fought for them."

"And you fought for the other," she countered. "Would you really call them 'your side,' Clint?"

"I like my freedom," he defended.

"You're retired. After ten years happily working for a big international bureaucratic organization called  _ S.H.I.E.L.D _ ."

"As you might recall, I didn't have the greatest track record of following orders there," he pointed out wryly.

Natasha gave him a ghost of a smile. "We break the rules when we have to. Neither of us has ever been afraid of doing that. But first...there have to  _ be  _ rules." She was watching him carefully, and he could read her mood. She was testing him. Trying to understand. Maybe not just his part in this, but her own as well.

"Okay, you have a point," he conceded. "I...I like Cap. And I owed Wanda a debt."

"Red in your ledger," Natasha said quickly, the knowledge snapping into place like puzzle pieces in her head. "Pietro."

Clint took an extra long draught this time. "So, you? You can barely stand Stark. And you hate politics."

"It was the only way the Avengers would have stayed intact," Natasha answered.

"Ha. That turned out well."

"It might have, had Barnes not been involved. Had it not been...personal." She sighed. "The Sokovia Accords are still in effect. The Avengers are just in hiding. I signed—at the most I'm facing something akin to a court-martial, but the others… Last I heard, Ross was less than thrilled about their break-out. They'll only have a harder time saving anyone. As they're further disgraced in the eyes of the UN and the public, fewer they try to rescue will want their help."

Clint narrowed his eyes, staring intently at his former partner. "You think it's not about politics this time, or national borders. You think it's a question of lives saved."

She blinked. "Isn't it? Or...shouldn’t it be?"

Clint sighed. "I don't know."

"If working with the government or fighting against them at every turn are our only two options, then yes, I think it's better to have only our real enemies as our enemies. The Accords aren't going away." She took a sip of her glass. "Steve may have won the fight, won custody of the Avengers, but Stark...Stark won the war."

"Oh, so it's a war now?" Clint quirked an eyebrow. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"Me neither," Natasha admitted. For a moment they were just drinking in silence.

"Dad? Auntie Nat? Are you guys fighting?" Cooper's voice called down the stairs. Clint tensed; Natasha reached for a thigh holster she wasn’t wearing. Spies until the end.

"We're not fighting, buddy," Clint assured him, getting up and walking towards his son who was looking down from the top of the staircase. Lila peeked out behind her brother. "How much of that did you overhear?"

"Nothing, Dad," Cooper shook his head. "But look." He held up an iPod with a bright, mostly white screen. Small figures moved across the video, running, jumping, flying. Streaks of red-gold and gray, beams of light, wisps of red smoke coalescing into something...more.

Clint took the iPod from him and Cooper gave it up easily. "I thought I told you to stay off the news sites?"

"We did!" Cooper defended. "It's on YouTube."

"It's the most-viewed video ever," Lila added, eyes wide.

"Damn personal drones," Clint muttered under his breath, examining the video for himself. It wasn't professionally shot, but it was good enough—good enough for his kids to see him and the rest of their heroes trying to beat the snot out of each other.

"Why are the Avengers fighting?" Cooper wanted to know. "Is that why Auntie Nat's here? And who's the guy who keeps disappearing and then grows really big?"

"That's Scott, or Ant-Man," Clint informed him. "And..." He glanced back at Natasha, who was standing uneasily at the foot of the stairs. "The Avengers had an argument. We fought."

"Even you and Auntie Nat?" Lila asked in a small voice.

"Even us," Natasha said quietly.

Clint swallowed. "It's over now, I promise. Natasha and I...talked it out. Resolved our differences."

"Is that what the other Avengers did too?" Lila wanted to know. "Mommy says talking is always better than fighting."

"Some of them," Clint replied carefully. "Some of them went home. Some of them went to find a new home, where they can work in secret."

"Secret? But they're the good guys," Cooper protested. "Why do they have to hide?"

"You'll understand someday," Clint told his son. "You might not agree with it, but you'll understand that being a hero to the public isn't black and white. Some people can't see past the collateral damage."

"Some people on both sides don't know how to compromise on their beliefs for the greater good," Natasha added. It wasn’t directed at him, and he detected no venom in it.

Clint gave Cooper a kiss on the head, then did the same for Lila. "Now, really, time for bed." He looked down at the iPod in his hand. "How did you get this, anyways? You're not supposed to have the iPod before bed."

Cooper gave him a guilty look. "Don't tell Mom?"

"Don't tell me what?" Laura asked, coming out of Nathaniel's room. "What are you both doing out of bed?"

"Nothing, Mom," Cooper said immediately.

"I caught them with contraband," Clint told his wife, holding up the iPod.

"Both of you, scat," she shooed them off. With one last glance back at their father, they hurried back to their rooms. 

Just then, Nathaniel began to wail.

"No rest for the weary," Laura said, turning back. "Every time I put him down for the night..."

"I'll get him," Clint said, putting a hand on her shoulder and slipping the iPod into his back pocket.

"You look like you're about to fall off your feet," Laura noted with a slight shake of her head.

"I'll be fine." Clint gave her another kiss, then trudged forward towards his youngest son's room. Nathaniel's eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he cried, waving his little pink fists in the air. Natasha followed him, shutting the door behind them in deference to the supposed attempt at sleep of the two other children not twenty feet down the hallway.

"Shh, little guy," Clint said softly, leaning over the crib to pick him up. "Did you miss Daddy?" The baby continued crying, although one tiny hand fisted around a wrinkle in Clint's shirt. He gave a small smile. "I think you did."

"I'm sure he did," Natasha murmured quietly, just loud enough to be audible over the baby's cries. She ran a light forefinger over the crown of Nathaniel's forehead, eyes soft in a way he rarely saw her. "Hey, traitor."

"You're going to have to stop calling him that someday," Clint said, attempting but failing to hide his smile.

"Someday," she agreed. "But not today. And look, he's quieting."

"I suppose you're going to take credit for that?" Clint asked, trying for light, but his tone just sounded hollow, even to himself.  _ Especially _ to himself. 

"I'll let you have it, just this once," Natasha responded back. She paused. "Something's still on your mind."

He sighed, holding his somewhat-less-squirmy baby in his arms. Maybe Natasha was right that Nathaniel was moving closer to sleep. "Just...do you ever wish that you could just be a kid again?"

She gave him a flat stare. "No."

He shook his head apologetically. "Not like that, not with either of our pasts, but like...I wish I could just look up at the sky, see Iron Man, and see hope. Like Cooper and Lila do." She pursed her lips. "Hope, and what is honest to God a really-freaking-cool flying metal suit."

"I will do you a favor and never tell him you said that," Natasha said. "And...the world's just too complicated now for that kind of...that kind of innocence."

"Yeah." Clint looked down at his now-soothed son, gazing deep into the blue eyes staring milkily back at him. "Yeah, I know it is."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, would love to know your thoughts :)


End file.
